Moments Across Thedas
by MissFabulous09
Summary: A series of one-shots/drabbles inspired by prompts that YOU, dear reader, post in the comments/reviews section. Having an urge to read some Fenris/Hawke fluff? Or want something featuring Isabella flirting with really anybody? You need only give me a prompt and I shall write it and post it here.
1. Chapter 1: A Boy's Night Out

**A/N So, this is the beginning of a series of one-shots/drabbles prompted by YOU! **

**Yes, I said you. Here's the skinny. You write a prompt for me in the review/comment section, and I will write a one-shot off of it. All I ask is that you keep them under the T rating, please. I wish not to ruin younger reader's innocence. And if enough prompts come in, I may not be able to do them all. I'll try though! **

**This series will go on as long as I have prompts. I will try to get the one-shot out as quickly as I can, but because I am a perfectionist and some health issues/work/college paperwork, it will likely be between one and three days before the one-shot is out. They will vary in length, ranging from 50 words to 4,000, and I will include the song(s) I listened to when I wrote the one-shot. **

**Are you ready? I am. **

**Bring it.**

* * *

**The Boys' Night Out**

**Rating: T for drinking and gambling.**

**Genres: Humor/Friendship/Romance**

**Featured Characters: Cullen, Alistair, Fenris, F!Hawke, The Hero of Ferelden (Kaya Cousland), the Inquisitor (Ellana Lavellan)**

**Prompt: King Alistair, Fenris, and Commader Cullen play a game of Wicked Grace. Go!**

**Suggested Listening: Rango Suite from Rango by Hans Zimmer, Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest by Hans Zimmer.**

* * *

"Cullen! Just the man I was looking for," King Alistair cried, striding up to Cullen proceeding to clap him heartily on the back. "Since Kaya and I are staying here for the rest of the week I thought we could get to know each other better. Up for a game of Wicked Grace?"

Cullen fought back a groan, wondering how he could get out of this. He looked around hopefully for Ellana or the Hero of Ferelden; they might be able to get Alistair to abandon his hare-brained idea. Of course, they were nowhere to be seen He sighed, resigned to his fate. "Fine," he agreed wearily.

"Great," Alistair said happily. "Now, I need your help getting Fenris to join in."

"Oh, no, no, no," Cullen said quickly, stepping back, knowing full well what Fenris did when he was displeased. "I'm pretty sure Ellana would hate to be widowed before our first year of marriage."

Alistair waved him off. "He's loosened up a bit. Relax, I'll do the talking. You're just backup in case he does loose it."

"How have you survived this long?" Cullen asked Alistair, mystified.

Alistair grinned. "My wife," he replied.

He began to march down Skyhold's main hall, heading towards the guest wing. "Come on," he called. Cullen sighed again, slowly trailing the jeopardy friendly king. He knew that he was going to regret this, and he silently hoped that Ellana wouldn't be too upset at him.

The two men entered Hawke's room, both on edge. Cullen swallowed nervously, his eyes darting around the room. Alistair frowned, carefully knocking on the door. The room was dead silent.

Cullen backed towards the door. "I don't think he's—"

"Here?" Fenris said from behind them, his face like stone. Alistair jumped at the sound of the elf's voice, banging his knee on a dresser. Cullen was slightly more prepared, his heart just stopping for a brief second. Swearing, Alistair clutched at his knee, glaring at the silent elf.

"Why do you have to be so quiet?" he huffed, running his hands through his fair hair.

Fenris smirked. "Why do you have to be so jumpy?" He strode into the room, his footsteps making no sound on the stone floor, and settled at his desk, pouring himself a glass of mead, his eyes unreadable. "You came here to ask me something? Probably something I won't like, considering you brought Cullen."

Alistair stood up straight, a smile returning to his handsome face. "Would you care to join us for a game of Wicked Grace?" he asked casually.

Ferris leaned back in his chair, his face thoughtful. "Will there be betting?" was all he said.

"Oh, yes," Alistair said wickedly.

"I'm in then," Fenris agreed. Cullen slowly exhaled, allowing his body to relax slightly. So far, so good. Once the elf started glowing through, he was out of there.

Alistair clapped his hands together, leading both men out to Skyhold's tavern. Inside the dim and smoky building, a table was already set up for them, cards and large tankards of ale waiting for them. Cullen felt dread rise up in him again; last he'd played the game, he was forced to strip in front of all of Ellana's companions. He did not want to repeat that.

He took his seat, pushing away the tankard, he was ready to play and win this time. They all picked up their cards, all determined to come out on top. Fenris's icy green eyes met Cullen's. The ex-Templar nervously swallowed. Fenris grinned. Alistair raised his mead, his eyes mischievous.

"Let the games begin!"

* * *

Cullen laughed, slamming down his cards, finishing his third tankard of ale. "I win! Put it on, Alistair," he said triumphantly. The fiery haired man scowled, disappearing into the back rooms to change. Fenris chuckled, shaking his head. After a little while, Alistair came back out, his face bright red. Clad head to toe in pink silk, he tottered on a pair of heels with diamond rings decorating every finger. When he saw that everyone was staring, Alistair took a giant bow, tripping over his dress.

"I think pink is my color," he said, sitting down again, smoothing his dress. Cullen snorted, shaking his head at the whole ensemble.

"You look ridiculous," Cullen said.

Fenris laughed beside him, slapping Alistair on the back. "Do you have any shame?" he said, wiping his streaming eyes.

"Nope," Alistair grinned.

Cullen rolled his eyes. "All right, deal again. This time, we're raising the stakes," he said with a wicked grin. Fenris leaned forward, his eyes determined.

"Bring it," the elf challenged. "I'm in, and raising the stakes higher."

"Count me in!" Alistair said. "I mean, it can't get much worse than this."

Cullen shuffled the cards, feeling more confident than ever. "I have this one," he said cockily. Ferris only laughed in response.

* * *

"How did this happen?" Alistair moaned.

Cullen scowled in response, his face burning. Why did everybody like having him naked? He self-consciously crossed his legs, refusing to meet anybody's eyes. He'd been naked for over an hour and was still blushing. _Maker, if you have any mercy, smite me now, _he prayed. Someone whistled, obviously directed at him. He frowned.

"Its your fault," Fenris snapped, trying in vain to smooth down his now spiked, bright green hair, the color courtesy of a passing mage. The color almost glowed in the smoky tavern, and Cullen always laughed at the sight of it. It was so unlike Fenris, and made the usually stoic elf embarrassed. It was priceless. Totally worth having to strip.

"Green is your color, I think," Cullen teased, echoing Alistair's earlier statement.

Fenris growled. "Shut. Up."

Alistair coughed, reshuffling the deck. "Well, my bet is—"

"What. In. The. World."

The trio froze, their head slowly turning to meet the shocked eyes of their wives, who all stood watching them. Hawke burst out laughing, her eyes streaming, while Ellana and Kaya looked utterly mortified. Cullen felt his face turn an even deeper shade of crimson as he tried desperately to think of a way to explain this.

"You're wearing a dress," Kaya whispered, her eyes as big as moons, her hands covering her mouth in horror. "Why are you wearing a dress, Alistair?" she squeaked. The Hero of Ferelden refused to look at her husband, her face buried in her hands. Alistair jumped up from the chair, clumsily curtsying before his wife.

"Do you want to know?" he asked.

Kaya sighed, rubbing her temple wearily. "No, I don't. Just—just get out of that."

"Good game, guys," Alistair called with a wink, leaving the other two to face their wives.

Cullen slowly swallowed, facing his own wife. "I—um." He struggled for words. Ellana smiled wryly, slipping her cloak off which Cullen took gratefully, wrapping it around his bare waist. She smiled now, a true one, shaking her head at her embarrassed husband. He saw she was trying not to laugh.

"You are adorable," she grinned, his face reddening even more.

"It seems I cannot play cards without losing my clothes," Cullen sighed. "Sorry," he added, kissing her cheek.

"Hey, if I was a man with your body, I'd always be naked," Hawke interjected with a snort. Fenris looked mildly offended. Hawke smiled at her husband, sitting on his lap and proceeding to kiss him. Cullen had never seen Fenris so happy, despite the green hair and considerably lighter coin purse. The elf's unusually good mood was probably due to all the mead he had drunk.

Ellana rolled her eyes at the Champion, standing up on her tiptoes and kissing Cullen. "Don't worry, I still love you," she winked. Cullen relaxed, pulling her closer to kiss her again. "But you really need to put your clothes on," she said more firmly, scooping up his rumpled clothes and shoving them in his hands. "Nice hair, Fenris," she commented casually on her way out. Fenris's face turned red.

Cullen burst out laughing.

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**A/N And so, the first one-shot is done. Humor is not my strong point, so I hope I did a decent job. I'm more of an angsty, evil, dark writer. Muahaha. Anyways, hope you enjoyed and please, feel free to post some prompts!**


	2. Chapter 2: Never Give Up

**Never Give Up**

**Rating: K+**

**Genres: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort**

**Featured Characters: F!Hawke/Fenris, Varric**

**Prompt: "How about a scene with Hawke at Skyhold and a blighted romanced Fenris tracks her down?"—Courtesy of Takami L. Sagara. **

**Suggested Listening: Thedas Love Theme from the Dragon Age: Inquisition Official Game Soundtrack by Trevor Morris. **

* * *

Hawke flew across her room, snatching various objects and tossing them carelessly into her knapsack, her long, thing fingers buckling on her armor and sweeping her long, ebony hair into its normal ponytail. Her face was focused, determined. Varric, her old friend, watched her from the room's doorway, his dark eyes sorrowful.

"Hawke, you could stay you know," he said quietly. Idly, he played with his leather gloves, his lips in a tight line. It hurt her to leave him again, but they both knew she could never stay in one place for long.

Hawke sadly shook her head, yanking on her boots and gloves. "I already sent word to Fenris for him to meet me in Weisshaupt," she said firmly, shouldering her pack. "He will panic if I'm not there before him." She chuckled, imagining his expression if she was late. She wondered how he put up with her wild ways for so long.

"But—" Varric began, alarmed cries cutting him off. Both of them readied their weapons, Hawke's face turning to stone as she peered down the long, dark hallway. The sound of heavy steps grew nearer, and a tall, thin figure emerged from the darkness. An elf, with a shock of premature white hair and sallow skin. Dead, empty eyes met Hawke's, desperate, hopeless.

Her hands flew to cover her mouth, her heart stopping as Fenris stepped fully into the light, his frail body wrapped in a dark cloak. She distantly heard Varric gasp, faintly tell her to keep her distance from the infected elf, but her feet moved for her, stopping inches from him. Tenderly, her finger traced the lyrium tattoos on his face, his skin like ice.

"How?" she murmured, brushing back his dirty white hair. He reached forward, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes like shards of broken glass.

"Its seems the Blight still exists in places," he rasped, pressing his forehead to hers. Hawke felt tears sting her eyes, her mind racing, trying to find a way to cure him. He knew exactly what she was thinking, his lips pursing. "There is no cure for me now, Hawke," he said darkly. "I only came here to say goodbye."

Hawke suddenly pressed her lips to his, not caring if she caught the Blight too. The kiss was bittersweet, hungry, wishing for more. But more would never come. Her lips tasted blood and salt, their tears mingling. It was the first time she'd ever seen him weep, and it would be the last.

"I can't—I—" Her throat closed, her chest tightening. Words died before they escaped her lips. What could she say to change anything? It would bring nothing but more pain. She remembered what the fear demon said in the Fade. _Fenris is going to die, _it had cried gleefully. She had ignored it. She still ignored it.

"Hawke," Fenris said, tipping her chin up to look him in the eye. "I want you to kill me. Please don't let me become something I am not."

She shook her head, the tears falling faster now. "No," she refused. "No."

"I am already dead, love," he said bluntly. She felt him place something silky in her hands, his gaze never leaving hers. "Promise me you'll endure," he insisted. She opened her hands, a sob escaping her mouth when she saw the little scarlet scrap of cloth, worn and frayed from the years. It was a vow, an unspoken promise between them.

"No, you're not," she said, taking a deep breath. "I can save you. We will save you."

"You stubborn woman," he sighed, his voice weary.

She managed a wobbly smile. "Indeed," she agreed. "Now, will you fight or are you just going to give up?"

He searched her face, a sliver of hope shining in his green eyes. "For you, I will always fight," he said, his thumb stroking the long scar that crossed her jaw.

"Fenris, I am going to save you," she vowed, her voice like iron. With shaking hands, she tied the cloth around his wrist again, her face determined. Fenris knew that face well, and it brought a smile to his lips.

"After all," she said firmly, "you promised me forever."

* * *

**A/N Had so much fun writing this, so thank you so much ****Takami L. Sagara! ****I spent awhile creating the scene in my head and trying to imagine how Hawke and Fenris would react to this. If its one thing I struggle with, its keeping characters in their respective personalities. Being OOC is a scary thing to do... **

**Anyways, I really hope you like it and that it fits the prompt. Such a sad one!**

**Thanks again and I will be eagerly waiting for more prompts! I do so love reading you guys' comments.**


	3. Chapter 3: Caught

**Caught**

**Rating: T**

**Genres: Romance, Humor**

**Featured Characters: F!Hawke/Fenris**

**Prompt: "Write a one-shot with Fenris/Hawke starting with this sentence: Anything you're looking for in particular?"—Courtesy of Anonymous **

**Suggested Listening: Budapest from Wanted on Voyage by George Ezra AND ****Stoick Finds Beauty from How To Train Your Dragon 2 by John Powell**

* * *

"Anything you're looking for in particular?" a teasing voice asked from behind him. Fenris jumped, whirling around to face Hawke, the book he had taken from the bookshelf dropping to the floor with a painful thud. He winced at the loud sound, trying to wave it off. Hawke's eyes sparkled, her mouth quirking to the side. She stepped closer to him, her body inches from his as she eyed the shelf behind him. Fenris came to realization that he was blushing. He growled.

Hawke traced one finger across the leather spines of the books, her eyes flitting over the titles. She laughed out loud at one, slipping one book it from its spot on the shelf. She dangled it in front of him, grinning wickedly. Fenris groaned, attempting to snatch the book from her hands but she danced out of his reach, still grinning.

"Romance?" she teased, opening the book to scan the first page. ""All I could taste was his honey-sweet lips, feel his skin on mine," she read, that insufferable grin growing wider. Fenris scowled, managing to grab the book from her hands and shove it back. Hawke early scooped up the one he dropped, beginning to read that one. "The fires of passion—" He didn't allow her to get further than that.

"Are you done?" he hissed, his face burning. She winked mischievously. His eyes widened as he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Don't you dare tell Varric!" he yelled, waving his finger at her.

Hawke placed her hands on his chest, playing with the loose threads of his shirt. "Maybe you could persuade me not to," she said coyly.

Fenris sighed, all of his anger deflating—he could never stay angry at her long. "What is your price?" he asked, his voice lighter, sarcastic. Hawke stood up on her toes, her arms snaking around his neck. His heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him through dark lashes, her lips inches from his. He closed the distance, pressing his dry, cool lips to hers, smiling when he heard her little sigh. He pressed her closer to the bookshelf, deepening the kiss, hands buried in her tangled hair, his lungs screaming for air.

Hawke pulled away, her dark red lips slightly parted, panting for air. "Varric won't know a thing," she promised, kissing his chin where his lyrium tattoos ended. "But one thing, would you mind reading that book to me, wise scholar?" She gently placed the book in his hands.

Fenris gave her a crooked smile, taking her hands in his and leading her to the plush armchairs in a corner of the library. "Of course, my lady," he replied. He settled down on the worn sofas, Hawke curling up next to him, resting her dark head on his chest. He opened the book, taking a deep breath and picking up where he left off. His fingers loosely played with her ebony curls, his rough, deep voice filling the library with words.

When he finished, he glanced nervously a her, knowing his literary skills were still not at their best. He was greeted with a giant smile, her white teeth flashing behind ruby lips. She rested her hand on his sharp cheekbones, her thumb stroking his dark skin. She leaned up, brushing her lips across his forehead.

"I can't believe I was lucky enough to run into you," she murmured. "And I love you. Your steamy romance fetish, the way you can't sleep if I'm gone, and how you secretly love to garden. Every inch of you," she said softly.

"Its not a fetish," Fenris grumbled lightly.

Hawke laughed.

* * *

**A/N Again, had a blast writing this one thanks to an anonymous messenger. Thank you so much! I am a little obsessed about Fenris and Hawke right now…but keep sending me prompts and/or challenges. It helps my writing skills so much, not to mention its something I adore. **

**And as always, I will see you guys in the next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4: Freedom

**Freedom**

**Rating: K+ for abuse and some violence**

**Genres: Romance/Hurt/Comfort**

**Featured Characters: Fenris, F!Hawke**

**Prompt: kitkat: "How about a one shot where Hawke admits to Fenris she knows what its like to be a slave because she was too."**

**Suggested Listening: Both of Us by B.o.B featuring Taylor Swift and the Gift of A Thistle by James Horner from the _Braveheart_ soundtrack**

* * *

_Another muffled cry, the sound of flesh tearing and blood spilling from broken veins, white skin and crimson pools. The rope chafed her frail wrists, rubbing, pulling as she jerked against them, tears of both fury and pain stood in her eyes. She longed for it to be over, but she knew that there would be no relief from the pain, no rest. This was her life, bound in chains and silk. _

_Yet somehow she still found the energy to drag herself to the window of her cage, to reach out with hopeful hands towards the sunlight. Gaze at the blue sky above her._

_Someday, she would once again fly free. _

Heart pounding, breath scraping though her dry throat and echoing through the dark room, Hawke sat straight up in her bed, sweat coating her bare skin. In the pale moonlight, she could see the scars that still decorated her skin. Slowly, she counted her breaths until they slowed, closing her eyes and relaxing her white-knuckled grip on the sheets. With a hopeful glance she looked to her side where Fenris was, praying he'd slept through her cries. Unfortunately, years of being on the run and imprisoned as a slave had heightened his senses to a razor sharp edge.

Forest green eyes met hers, clouded by worry and sleep.

Hawke sighed wearily, laying back down beside him. She felt his arm snake around her waist and pull her close, cool lips press against her hot forehead. All of the fear slowly eased, retreating back to its hiding spot as she buried her head in his shoulder, never wishing to leave this little place of peace.

"What did you dream of this time?" Fenris asked gently, leaving the choice up to her to answer or to remain silent, never pressing or probing. That was one of the many things she loved about him.

Idly, her fingers ran up the pale blue tattoos etched across his skin, trying to gather her thoughts. She stopped over an old scar crossing his shoulder, one that matched the scars she bore on her back. The markings of a whip. "I dreamt of an old wish I'd once had," she murmured, gently pressing her lips to the cruel mark. "A wish that is now fulfilled," she added more lightly.

A rare half smile crossed his lips, his eyes shining in the dark. "What was that wish?"

"To be free," she admitted watching as confusion crossed his face.

"From what? Magic?" he pressed, rolling over so the tip of his nose brushed hers.

She barked out a dry laugh, void of her usual humor. "Hardly."

"Then what, Hawke?" His hands cupped her face carefully, as if he cradled a delicate flower or a precious treasure.

"From slavery, my wolf," she answered, her voice catching. Even after all these years, the pain, the loneliness still stalked her, fresh again after the dream. The world seemed very silent then, only the sharp sound of surprise breaking it as Fenris struggled to comprehend what she'd just said.

"You were a slave?" he managed to say, his hands sliding down her back to touch the harsh marks carved there so many years ago. "Why did you not tell me?"

Hawke pressed her forehead to his, shushing him silently. "You have enough burdens of your own," she whispered. "This one is mine alone to bear." She felt his muscles coil underneath taunt skin at this, his head shaking in protest.

"We are a team, Hawke," he reminded her. "You told me that once, if I recall correctly. Teammates bear their burdens _together_, not alone. A very wise woman once told me that." He brushed a stray hair behind her ear. "So let me help." His voice took on a softer tone, unusually tender, caring. "Please."

On an impulse, she kissed him, pressing her body close to his and closing her eyes, her shoulders suddenly feeling lighter than they had in years as she let go. An unspoken promise was sealed with that kiss. Truly, she now felt utterly free.

She grinned as they pulled away.

"Okay," she agreed.

* * *

**A/N A huge thanks to guest reviewer kitkat for submitting this prompt. I also apologize for the ridiculously long time in coming for this one-shot. To make up for it, I'll be posting another one-shot tonight featuring the Inquisitor. **

**But anyways, I hope you enjoyed it as I had quite a bit of fun writing this. Please leave a prompt/comment/idea and have a lovely day!**


	5. Chapter 5: A Live Well Lived

**A Life Well Lived**

**Rating: K+**

**Genres: Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Family **

**Featured Characters: Inquisitor TrevelyanxCullen**

**Prompt: This is of my own imagination. Enjoy!**

**Suggested Listening: Married Life from Pixar's Up soundtrack or The Things We Did, also from the Up soundtrack by Micheal Glacchino.**

* * *

The first time he saw her, she was like a fiery angel.

Ragged cuts crossed her pale face, her lips slightly parted as she fought for breath. The fight was over, but she still carried her staff in her open palm, her eyes lit with an unnatural icy fire that made his breath catch. Power and danger ebbed from her pale skin, her lean frame, her coiled muscles ready to spring. A mage. An abomination he'd been conditioned and learned to hate his entire existence, but all he had felt in that moment was a strange fascination. He could still recall the way the snow and blood mixed on her skin, the dimples at the corners of her full lips, the mage fire dancing on her fingertips.

This was his first memory of her.

His second most precious one was of the relief he felt when he saw her again, alive, whole, fresh scars on her face but still breathing. The color returned to her cheeks and mouth. He remembered how strange these feelings were, for he'd only seen her a handful of times before this, how embarrassing his infatuation was. She had changed from her ragged, snow covered armor to a fresh change of robes. The crimson color of them still stood freshly in his mind—it had made her lips even more distracting, her eyes darker, more sultry. It had haunted his dreams that night, stalked his thoughts. He always chuckled when he recalled how desperately he'd tried to avoid seeing her after his dreams. There was no where he could hide.

One of his most cherished memories was the day in the garden, pitting small marble characters against each others, laughing, forgetting the stress and worry of life. It was the first time he'd ever seen her smile, white teeth flashing, her warm brown eyes crinkling. It'd made her look so young, almost fragile; so different than the determined, authoritative facade she always put on. For the hundredth time since he'd met her, he thought about what it'd be like to kiss her, and the feeling only grew as she smiled again, throwing another flirtatious comment at him. It was not long after that his fantasy had come true.

That was definitely one of his favorite memories. His heart still sped up when he remembered her confessing her feelings, her fear that he loathed her. All because she was a mage, and he, a templar. He'd tried to tell her, but he was never good at words. That was her specialty. So he'd done the most natural thing: he kissed her. All he could remember after that was the taste of honey on his tongue and how soft her skin felt under his calloused hands. On dark days after, it was sometimes the only thing that kept him going. A single kiss that broke the glass. He never could forget that memory.

There was so many memories after that event, but never enough. A dance in a pit of vipers, a token exchanged in a place of peace, but one in particular stood out. A cool night in the summer, where his shoulders bent under the lives placed there, the constant guidance needed. He could barely keep track of himself, let alone an army. But she was there, lifting his burden, whispering for him to forget for a night. And as a single glass bottle crashed against the floor, he listened to her, and let go. That was the first time he told her he loved her. Forever would he treasure those three words she said to him in the early light of morning.

Many more memories followed that one, chasing each other like small children playing a game. The way his whole body relaxed when he saw her ride home, safe and sound, though the gates of Skyhold. Sometimes she was hurt, sometimes she returned with tears in her eyes and another wound in her heart, but she always returned. Always.

It always brought a smile to his lips when he recalled when her burden had been lightened some, when the false god had been slain, and her life was now hers to live. Her eyes sparkled again, and he'd felt hope again as they stood hand in hand, looking at a future together. So many things had happened after that—it was almost a blur. The day he watched her kiss him under a wreath of flowers, the muted sound of celebration all around them. That was the day she had become his wife, and he, her husband. A templar and a mage.

The only memory that shadowed that day the the first time he felt his daughter's impossibly soft skin on his, seen her eyes open to meet his in absolute shock. A fragile life rested in his hands, and it weighed more on him than a thousand lives ever did. That was the day he'd openly wept; not out of loss or grief, but of pure joy that made his blood turn into a warm flame which radiated from his very being. Never he'd ever dreamed of this. It'd felt like his heart had burst, and everything else paled in comparison of that most treasured memory.

After that, life had seemed to flash forward, he watched as their second child was born, and then a third. Watched as they grew up into beautiful young men and women, and found their own life, married their loves. So much joy in those years, but sorrow was no stranger to them. It'd shown its fangs when their youngest child, a baby girl, died. It had seemed then like the sun would never shine again, but hand in hand, they bore it together, shudders stooping under the weight but never collapsing.

Through dimming eyes he'd watched his wife grow weaker, and felt his own strength give out. He watched as her once golden hair turned a beautiful silver, her eyes grow milky and then loose their vision entirely. She'd wept that day, desperately trying to see his face one last time. But she was never one to dwell on herself for long, and she'd bravely trudged onward the path of life.

And then, he recalled the last good memory.

Her hand had been so light, wrinkled, pale skin stretched over sharp bones. Once, hands that'd never shook, even in the heart of the battle, trembled so badly, she could barely feed herself. Those were the last good days, tinged with a bittersweet shadow. He'd never left her side, feeding her, changing her clothes, wiping away frustrated tears as she raged at her weakness. He'd always shook his head at that, protested that she was still the strongest person he'd ever met. She kissed him when he said that, her lips still sweet like honey and a deep red, if a little faded from the long years.

He counted her breaths every night after that, until they no longer came. Until the heart he'd listened to every night for decades, went silent.

That was the day he knew his own life was over.

And now his is here, laying in the dewy grass by her grave, his hand on her burial mound, eyes shut as he feels his lungs struggle for air, his heartbeat slowly fading.

He sees her again as he dies, for the first time in years, a staff in her hand, mage fire crackling in her fingertips, achingly familiar dimples at the corners of crimson lips. She is saying something to him in that gentle, soft, shining voice his ears desperately crave.

"Welcome home, my love."

* * *

**A/N I believe this is one of my favorite things I've written! I hope you guys liked it too and l****et me know if you'd like something like this for other DA couples like Alistair/Hero of Ferelden, Fenris/Hawke, Isabella/Hawke, etc. **


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